


Aromas del sur

by salytierra (octavaluna)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Getting Back Together, M/M, Spain smells like oranges, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, because it's like half the flora here, rated T for sniffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 17:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7114873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octavaluna/pseuds/salytierra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You used to smell like seawater and metal. You know, <i>before</i>. Now you just smell like oranges.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aromas del sur

**Author's Note:**

> Another short story featuring a Spain/ pairing because I'm a lazy fuck.  
> This one is so sweet it gave me cavities. The title means "Southern scents"  
>  ~~I probably should stop procrastinaing though~~

 

Austria wasn’t in the best of moods.

He just spent two hours at an international meeting where he actually tried to pay attention, unlike others. 

“Mexico, would you mind a word right now?” He asked, turning to his designated seating neighbour for the day. Who was already gearing up to run out the door, after his sister.

“Yeah?”

“You spent the whole meeting throwing paper balls at Taiwan. If you don’t want to pay attention it’s your own problem, but it was distracting to those near you and a show of disrespect for the speakers.” He punctuated his scolding by fixing up his glasses with one finger, but the other nation just huffed, crossing his arms. 

“You were the only one trying to pay attention, not even the speakers were paying attention to themselves. Besides, she started it.”

Austria was about to argue his point further but then Mexico’s defensive stance uncurled a bit and he waved at somewhere behind Roderich’s shoulder. 

“Ey, viejo!”

Austria was confused for about two seconds before he felt a fresh tang of orange in the air and a hand draped itself over his shoulders, drawing him sideways to press against a familiar side. Turning his head he found himself face to face with a smiling Spain. 

“What? Terrorizing the not-so-impressionable youth, Rode?” 

Without waiting for a reply he turned to Mexico, both speaking out a rapid and exceedingly loud tirade of Spanish. Roderich was only half aware that they were probably making fun of him, judging by the way Mexico snorted and waved in the direction of where Taiwan had been seated and Antonio’s answering laughter, that shook his whole frame, reminding Austria that they were still unusually close. Well, unusual for the past two centuries. Something was different though, something…

“Your scent has changed.” He blurted out without thinking, and instantly blushed as both men turned their attention back at him. 

“O-kay?” Spain drew out, coming out of his stupor at the same time that Mexico declared in a high-pitched voice “Welp, that’s my cue to leave!” and, expertly dodging a hair ruffle from his former guardian, hurried after the last group of nations to go out the door, leaving the two of them alone. 

Cleaning his throat Austria stepped away from under Spain’s arm. Fixing his glasses again in a sign of nervousness. 

“I apologise. It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

“Me?” Antonio raised his eyebrows “You’ve only made yourself uncomfortable, dude. What did you mean, though? I’m not wearing any cologne.”

“It’s not…” Roderich wanted out of that conversation, but just walking away now would be rude. Besides, he was curious. “You used to smell like seawater and metal. You know, before. Now you just smell like oranges.”

Spain actually lifted the inside of his elbow to his face to sniff it, blinking in confusion and then sniffing it again. “Look at that. I do. It probably happened so gradually I didn’t even realize it. Makes sense though. I’ve literally got oranges growing on the streets across most of my territory and there’s no reason for me to smell like metal, or blood, which it probably actually was, since I’m a pacifist now. Also I can’t remember when was the last time I’ve spent more than a few hours at sea.” 

That last part was said with a bit of good-natured nostalgia, but Roderich suspected he didn’t actually miss the months spent in a wooden deathtrap in the middle of the ocean. Well, Austria never liked the ocean much. One of the reasons being exactly because of the amount of time Antonio spent overseas during their marriage.

“It suits you.” He said with a soft smile, and was rewarded with a flustered Iberian rubbing the back of his neck. Oh, that was still the same. 

He wasn’t prepared for Spain to lean in. Way too close, his nose practically brushing against Austria’s skin as he inhaled deeply against his neck. 

Roderich pulse sped up and a shiver ran down his spine as he felt the wet, warm air of Antonio’s exhale tease under his jaw. He closed his eyes, caught by surprise at the intimacy, the closeness of the gesture, heart shuttering painfully inside his chest. 

“Well, you smell like cheese.”

“What?” Roderich almost screamed, coming back into himself and drawing away, maybe way too sharply than the situation called for. Antonio just laughed, good naturedly. 

“Kidding, kidding. You still smell like ink and paper. I guess some things never change.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Austria pursed his lips, still a little bit riled up from before. 

“Nothing.” Antonio shrugged, raising his hands in an unnecessarily placating gesture. “I like it. I always liked it.” 

Roderich knew he probably had a stupid expression on his face right then, but even if he tried he wouldn’t have been able to hide the soft smile that showed way more in his eyes than on his lips. It was inevitable. There were just so many memories tied to that man. Memories of pain and arguments, and cold shoulders and jealousy, but mostly memories or awkward teenage fumbling, precious moments alone in the meadows, stolen kisses, hands touching under the dinner table. Of Antonio climbing into his window late at night even though as the spouse he had all the right to enter through the door, memories of late february mornings trying to convince each other to crawl out of the bed’s warmth, of making love in front of the fireplace, of dancing together during balls and when nobody watched, of naive promises… of being in love. 

They had been so young the day of their wedding and grown up so much in each other’s arms, woven each other’s customs, speech, marks, ideals, under their skin, across their own cultures and lands. Intertwined forever, part of each other for the rest of their lives even if they’ve had never spoken again. Roderich understood, even back then, that any relationships he had in the future would be forever, unconsciously measured against his first, great love. 

And it was extremely difficult, to be standing there now, two centuries after their bitter divorce and looking into that man’s eyes - now so changed and yet still the same - and not feel the ghostly remains of that love shrugging off the eons of sleep. A part of him wanted to run, to get away and try to forget the whole conversation, the feeling of being so close to Spain again. 

However, there was an answering understanding in those green eyes, tenderness and melancholy mixed up with warmth and deeply-buried affection. 

But whatever moment they were having got interrupted by somebody calling out Antonio’s name from the outside. Probably one of his friends or children looking for him. Roderich averted his eyes, suddenly feeling way out of his depth as Antonio rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“I should probably go..” He gestured to the door with his thumb, bouncing on his heels. Austria nodded, fumbling with his own portfolio. 

“Of course, sorry for delaying you. Have a good evening.” For some reason he felt a bitter pang of regret at the sound of retreating footsteps, staring down at his own hands and asking himself what the hell just happened. 

“Wait. Shit, no.” He looked up as he heard Spain turning around and walking back to stand in front of him again. A determined shine in his eyes even as his voice came out uncertain. “I was wondering if you had something to do tonight. Say at eight?”

“Yes- I mean, no, I’m free.” Roderich blurted out. “Are you asking me…?” He trailed off, not daring to end the sentence. Antonio just shrugged with a boyish grin and a noticeable flush across his face. 

“Maybe? Let’s just have dinner together. You and I only. Catch up? How does that sound?” 

“Sounds wonderful.” Roderich answered, wholeheartedly. Smiling back at him. 

“Great! See you later, encanto.” And seeing the honest joy in his eyes it felt like the most natural and instinctive thing in the world for Austria to look up, tilting his head sideways as Spain leaned in to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. 

Roderich waved calmly as the other man ran out the door, but as soon as he was left alone he collapsed into a chair and buried his face in his arms. Least somebody walked in right then and saw him grinning like a fool.

**Author's Note:**

> Idk if tranlations are necessary but:  
> Ey, viejo! = Hey, old man!  
> Encanto = literally "charm", but also an affectionate/flirty nickname. Something like "gorgeous"
> 
> ______  
> Please consider commenting and/or leaving kudos. They are wonderful ao3 features that feed the writer's starving soul  
> [You can also find me on tumblr](http://salytierra.tumblr.com) ♥


End file.
